Project self

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Life is precious..

Submitted: April 23, 2012

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Submitted: April 23, 2012

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The sky was bright and the streets were empty. Each breath she took in became stale before she was able to push it out. Breathing out soon became impossible, each individual breath killed hope- pleaded for an end. The fake lights above her head were no longer reminiscent of sunlight; they just were a bright reminder that she would never be okay.

She was lying on her couch, her body sprawled over the soft cushion. She laid there in silence, surrounded by white cotton. Her face was masked in the wet crust from her salty tears. For once her busy mind went blank; her world had no future. Her body became separated from the rhythm of the world; her heart became separated from the rhythm from life. Her head would not stop spinning and deep inside she knew that if she shut her eyes the world would not become any clearer. This time the reality was in front of her, amid her despondent body.

She was more alone than ever, once numb; she was now top full with pain. The little voice inside her head whispered for the first time in hours. That was just what she needed to pull herself somewhat together. She propped up her limp body with a pillow and immediately put her hands on her wet face. The warm dewy sensation of her face made her hands feel like ice. It felt good. Her head was pounding in rhythm with her heart as she lifted her body off the couch. After she made her way upstairs she stared at her dresser with tee shirts neatly folded, and perfectly stacked. She was too concentrated to think of the consequence she would get if she messed it so she grabbed one white shirt, right out of the middle. As she made her way to where the shorts were, she pulled the cool shirt over her face. As she pulled the cotton tee, reminiscent of the couch, over her messy blond hair it brushed her face and wiped away the moisture. 

Her shoes were easy to find, always in the same place, always convenient for when she needed to escape. She pulled the closest pair over her socks; the fit was perfect as usual, which one thing she never needed to worry about. She was dressed for a frenzy of an escape. Still not in full consciousness she slipped her iPod up her arm, and pressed play. On her way out, she locked the door with one quick exhale, and placed the keys on her waist. She was frustrated as she started to realize her pounding head, burning body, and spinning world. Never the less, she let the music medicate her soul and went down onto the warm asphalt.

With her first steps she realized she could not breath. She did not plan for this disability, so she figured god would work it out. She ran. The problem was that she did not know God’s plan. She ran up a short but steep incline putting one foot in front of the other. The daunting footpath would eventually lead to her regular route. her lungs were becoming tight. Still no breaths. The sun was beating on her face; she could feel her cheeks burning. Determined to get better she ran on, ignoring her pain. She ran around the loop, she had run it a million times before, but this time it was different. The humidity took the last burst of energy out of her. Her lungs were filled with stale air to the point in which, she erupted with emotion. Tears ran down her eyes, and they were relentless. She couldn’t see anything in front of her, but her legs kept moving. She was struggling to gather herself and she was slowly suffocating. Physically unable to control any function of her body she collapsed. As her leg hit the ground it was joined with blood. Her shorts ripped, her shirt was wet, and she was burning on the asphalt. Before she could help herself up to stop the burning, her head hit the ground. She was out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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